Christmas Shoes
by Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
Summary: Just a cute little songfic based on the song Christmas Shoes. About Dr. Abbott realizing what Christmas really means. It takes place when Bright and Amy are younger. One-part.


**Title:** Christmas shoes   
  
**Author:** Yelak   
  
**Rating:** PG for sweetness and cuteness and sadness.   
  
**Characters:** Doctor Harold Abbott   
  
**Summary:** Just a cute little songfic based on the song Christmas Shoes. About Dr. Abbott realizing how mean he is. It takes place when Bright and Amy are younger, maybe around ten or eleven. It's cute if I do say so myself. One-part.   
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Everwood nor Christmas Shoes, unfortunately for both.   
  
**A/N:** Christmas Shoes is one of my favorite songs ever, and I could just completely see Harold being the man who doesn't know Christmas. Thefore, this songfic was produced. If you love it, hate it, or even have no feelings for it, please review! Thanks.   
  
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_ It was almost Christmas time   
there I stood in another line   
tryin' to buy that last gift or two   
not really in the Christmas mood_   
  
"I absolutely _hate_ Christmas," I mumbled under my breath. It was a normal night in Everwood; if you ignored the fact that it happened to be the night before Christmas. That didn't affect me at all; Christmas was just another day to perform surgery, fill out paperwork, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. A swift glance at my wristwatch told me it was a quarter past eight, Christmas Eve nonetheless. I'd promised I would have been home by eight o'clock, no later; I had still to place the star on top of the tree, a Christmas Eve tradition in my home. Thinking of that made me grumble even more so. I couldn't wait until Christmas was over, when I could return to work peacefully without everyone bustling around merrily in the street, prancing like there was nothing to be done. And already I would be in trouble when I got home. But I couldn't help it - I still had to buy my kids Christmas presents.   
  
My wife would have never forgiven me if I came home empty handed. After all, I was their Santa Claus. I was just thankful I didn't have to wrap the presents myself - she'd said she could handle that. Okay, so I was supposed to have finished the shopping two weeks ago. But time flew, and then _bam_ it was Christmas Eve, and my kids had not even one gift yet. It helped add to the affect of Santa Claus, I'd tried to explain to my angry wife. That way, it's impossible for them to find the presents and stop believing. But God, wouldn't it be easier if they hadn't believed? Shopping would be so simple and painless.   
  
So, shopping wasn't nearly hard as I had imagined. In the toy aisle, a Barbie doll for Amy and a Power Ranger for Bright was thrown into the cart. I couldn't even remember if my kids liked Barbies and Power Rangers any more. Were they too old for that stuff? Was that stuff out of style now? Well, maybe this would be difficult after all. I turned around, and saw a little boy standing not far from me. There was an idea; I could ask him what kids played with these days. As I approached him, I noticed he actually wasn't gazing at toys, but holding a pair of women's shoes. That surprised me, but I spoke to him anyway.   
  
_standing right in front of me   
was a little boy waiting anxiously   
pacing around like little boys do   
and in his hand he held   
a pair of shoes_   
  
"Excuse me, little boy?" Big, wide eyes gazed at me, almost scared. He was clutching a big bag of pennies and nickels and dimes to his chest like they were his prized possession. I almost snorted; what would anyone want with a bunch of useless change? That's when I noticed the smell that floated from him, and his attire. His brown shirt was ripped in quite a few places around his left shoulder, and was in dire need of washing. His pants were much too short, hovering only slightly above his ankles, and were an old, faded color. His face was smudged in dark brown dirt, and his hands were identical. He waited for me to continue but I was at a loss for words. Where were this boy's parents? And how could they let their child look like that, in _public_?   
  
_and his clothes were worn and old   
he was dirty from head to toe_   
  
"Uh, uh . . ." I stuttered. His grip on his coins noticeably tightened. "Never mind. Have a merry Christmas."   
  
"You too, sir," he said politely, returning his awed gaze to the red shoes he was grasping. His face then changed to a determined one, and he marched up to the counter, standing in the long line of last-minute shoppers. Out of pure fascination, I grabbed my cart with the toys and followed him. I could pay for these now and go back for a second trip, I reasoned. The little boy was running his hands through the money, counting it endlessly. Finally, he glanced up at me; I was busted. He'd noticed I'd been staring curiously as the shoes for a while.   
  
_ and when it came his time to pay   
I couldn't believe what I heard him say   
Sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my momma please   
it's Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size_   
  
"I'm buying these shoes for my momma," he explained, his dirty face locked in an unreadable emotion. "She don't get much for Christmas, but I really gotta make this one special for her. I been saving money for a long time now, plannin' on buyin' these Christmas shoes." I nodded slightly, and I knew my cold stare had long ago melted. He opened his mouth to say some more, but it was his turn at the register.   
  
_ could you hurry sir?   
daddy says there's not much time   
you see she's been sick for quite a while   
and I know these shoes will make her smile   
and I want her to look beautiful   
if momma meets Jesus tonight_   
  
He smiled at me, and then set down the shoes and said to the cashier at the counter, "Can you please ring these up fast? My momma - she has cancer, and my daddy says tonight may be her last night with us. He says she could be goin' to meet Jesus real soon, so I gotta hurry and get these shoes home to her. I want her to look her best if she does meet Jesus." My throat clenched when I heard him say that, and my heart dropped like a stone, where it sat in my stomach. The poor kid's mother was dying. The cashier must've felt the same way as me, because he hurriedly rang it up and told the price. I looked down at the little boy's pennies, and for some reason that was unspecified to me, prayed it was enough. He turned his paper bag upside down, and the coins spilled out all over the counter.   
  
_they counted pennies for what seemed like years   
and the cashier said son there's not enough here   
he searched his pockets frantically   
and he turned and he looked at me   
and he said momma made Christmas good at our house   
although, most years she just did without   
tell me sir   
what am I gonna do?   
somehow I gotta buy her these Christmas shoes_   
  
"I - I'm sorry, son," the man working the cashier said apologetically, stumbling over his words. "This isn't enough for the shoes. But, we do have some other shoes that you could probably afford -" I choked slightly. This was all surreal to me; I couldn't ever recall feeling so much emotion toward one person, not even any of my patients. I hardly displayed that much emotion to my own family. The boy's eyes grew wide as he tore through his pockets, hoping for any more change. He shook his head at the suggestion, and somehow I knew how much those special Christmas shoes meant to him.   
  
The little boy adverted his frantic gaze to me, and I faltered faintly. "Sir, w-what can I do?" Did he not see me as the mean, cold-hearted person everyone else saw me as? Did he not know that many people in that town feared and or hated me? But, no, he couldn't have. He continued to gush to me, and I felt the heart I never knew existed began to pump faster and faster, just for that little boy. "She - she deserves these shoes, my momma does. Oh, I just have to get them! I just _have_ to!"   
  
_ so I laid the money down   
I just had to help him out   
and I'll never forget   
the look on his face   
when he said momma's gonna look so great_   
  
I fumbled for my wallet, hands shaky and my breathing a little bit irregular. With no hesitation, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and shoved it onto the counter, among all of the coins that were already there. The employee behind the counter smiled at me as he picked it up, and set in gently in the cashier. I managed a smile back. He put those beautiful red Christmas shoes in a bag, and handed it to the little boy. His face lit up as he clutched the bag to his chest, smiling gratefully. "These shoes will be just beautiful on my momma," he announced, a look of pure child bliss on his dirty face. I didn't even notice the dirt anymore. In fact, I didn't even see the face of a little boy. I saw the face of an angel.   
  
_sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my momma please   
it's Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size   
could you hurry sir?   
daddy says there's not much time   
you see she's been sick for quite a while   
and I know these shoes will make her smile   
and I want her to look beautiful   
if momma meets Jesus tonight   
I knew I caught a glimpse of heaven's love as he thanked me and ran out   
I knew that God has sent that little boy to remind me   
what Christmas is all about_   
  
"Thank you, thank you so much sir," the little boy said to me, and I smiled and nodded. He broke off at a run towards the exit, as fast as those skinny legs could carry him. For a few seconds, I forgot about everything except that little boy. And then I realized how much of a jerk I'd been. All my life, I'd been cold-hearted, but I had everything a man could want - a good job, a wonderful wife, and two kids. Why didn't I tell my kids I loved them any more? When did I stop reading them bedtime stories? Especially when there were people like that little boy running around, whose mom was about to leave their family for good. How _stupid_ was I? Right now I just wanted to get home to tell my family how much they meant to me.   
  
"You're one heck of a guy, Abbott," the cashier said, smiling at me. Funny, but I'd never heard anyone tell me that before. It was nice. I smiled back politely, handing over the toys I'd wanted to purchase. It seemed stupid to buy them now, but I paid for them anyway. I couldn't wait to tell my family the wonder I'd just witnessed. It was like God had sent that little boy straight to me, to get me to open my eyes. Well, boy, they were open now and I had no intention of closing them anytime soon. The meaning of Christmas was clearer.   
  
"You have a merry Christmas," I replied, grinning, and he echoed me back. My newly founded heart was bursting with an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time. Happiness.   
  
I hustled all the way to my car to meet the people I cared the most for in life. My family. "I absolutely _love_ Christmas."   
  
_Sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my momma please   
it's Christmas eve and these shoes are just her size   
could you hurry sir?   
daddy says there's not much time   
you see she's been sick for quite a while   
and I know these shoes will make her smile   
and I want her to look beautiful   
if momma meets Jesus tonight   
  
I want her to look beautiful   
if momma meets Jesus tonight_   
  
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**A/N:** Okay, there it is. I appreciate all feedback, comments, and suggestions. Thanks! 


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